Roses Are Red
by dazynl8
Summary: Where Kazama tries to make shopping for flowers for Chizuru seem normal, and Amagiri tries to convince him it's not, even though Amagiri happens to know a lot about flowers himself. Based on the anime, mentions of slightly one-sided Kaza/Chi.
1. Chapter 1

**This is my first ****and probably...or _maybe_ last**** attempt at Hakuouki fanfiction. Based solely on the anime because that way I don't have to keep referencing back to a game I haven't played yet due to my being one of the lamest people on earth. =_=;;**

**But I like the idea of Kazama flower shopping for Chizuru, e****ven though she doesn't love him :( **** Yet. :)**

**XxrenxX kindly gave me permission to use her wonderful art as the cover art for this oneshot! (Isn't it gorgeous?!) Check her out at xxrenxx. deviantart. com!(remove the spaces)  
**

* * *

_..._

_Let's not forget about the fear_

_Blank invitation to a place_

_That cannot change_

_White demon_

_Widen your heart scope_

_..._

For a normal midweek day the main town of Kyoto is surprisingly busy. There are a few children running in and out of shops when they should be in school, housewives rushing around frantically to purchase domestic items so that they can return to their homes and continue their lives in domestic bliss, and even, strangely enough, two men that everyone knows about but dares not mention in any kind of conversation when they're around. Because unlike the Shinsengumi who have issues with just a few locals here and there but are mostly respected because at least they _try_ and appear amicable, the men walking leisurely through the middle of town are the kinds of people who make no effort to be friendly and every effort to make anyone within sight feel like they _shouldn't_ be.

They walk past shops and people with the same disinterested, faintly supercilious expression, wearing garments that are far too regal, far too imposing to betray them as commoners, which everyone already knows they're not anyway. They're not even _locals_, and sometimes that annoys the kind of proud people who don't like feeling as if they don't belong anywhere that those men are, despite living there for generations.

One of the men, hair the colour of dusty sun and a posture fit for a king, stops in front of a shop that says 'Tama's Flowers, Bouquets and Gifts', and goes inside. He's followed by man with crimson hair tied into a loose pony tail that hangs down his back.

The shopkeeper inside isn't sure what to make of the pair that walks into her shop, except to think that they are most certainly not welcome. There's an aura about them that screams the kind of danger a simple flower shop owner like herself just doesn't want anything to do with. But because business has been slow since the Shinsengumi imposed a non-official curfew due to suspicious activity that they say has been going on at night, she has no choice but to leave them be, contenting herself with keeping a very close, watchful eye on them.

She takes a vase of flowers that are on the counter and holds them close to her chest possessively. If there are any flowers she's protective of, it would be the new shipment of azaleas that her husband ordered if only to make her smile because she's been trying to grow them in Kyoto for years now with no luck. She's of loath to sell them to anyone, let alone these two men that people call demons in hushed whispers behind the backs of their hands without realising the amount of truth behind it.

The first man who walked in; the blonde one, picks up one of the flowers on the main stands. It's as red as blood and he looks at it hard, scrutinizing it down to its' last petal for a few minutes, before turning to his companion, a question on his face.

"This one, do you think?" he says seriously, offering the flower for inspection.

Said companion, Amagiri, quirks a curious brow and works to supress a smile of amusement.

"It is quite appropriate; Kazama-san" is his attempt at a neutral reply, "Although the flower lady over there is partial to the azaleas."

The gazes of both men wander to the lady behind the counter who clutches a vase of pretty pink and purple flowers with petals that look as fragile as paper. She regards them coolly, and Kazama decides he doesn't like her at all. He narrows his eyes, making her quickly avert her stare, and then scowls.

"I don't care what the flower lady thinks."

Amagiri nods in assent, his mouth twitching in a way he can't control. Because it really is as absurd a thing as he thinks to be with Kazama shopping for _flowers_. Ludicrous enough for Amagiri to want to make a scene out of it, because as nice a guy as he is, even he has enough of the malevolent type of cynicism in him to enjoy a moment like this.

"I never thought I'd live to see the day when you'd be obsessing over which flower is more romantically appropriate for a girl who obviously has a more platonic perspective of you." Amagiri pauses a moment, thoughtful, "In fact, does she even like you?"

It's a brave question, and he knows he's pushing boundaries that shouldn't even be broached, but he figures there are few who can do that to Kazama, and he likes to delude himself into thinking he's one of them, hanging on the hope that their dysfunctional leaning more towards convenient friendship, at best, would be enough of a saving grace by the end of it all.

Kazama clicks his tongue off the top of his mouth, all the while still smelling the delicate flower in his hand.

"And I never thought I'd live to see you still _living_ after being so brave with your choice of words with me," Kazama offers as he sweeps his gaze over to Amagiri, smiling in that fake, deceitful way that says 'Try it, I dare you', and it makes Amagiri want to start planning his final will now, before the day is out.

"Touché"

"And besides," Kazama continues, "She's tainted by her excessive association with humans. You know how pathetic they can be. I pity her. What is this by the way?"

"No you don't. You pity _humans_ in general." Amagiri gestures to the flower in Kazama's hand. "That's called lilium rubella, or the maiden lily. They aren't as popular as the more traditional rose, for the occasion you want them for anyway."

Kazama forgets to glare at Amagiri's comment, staring at the pink flower in his hand and back at the rose he had just before. "The popular choice," he mutters, "Says who?"

"Basic principle, something along the lines of best annual wedding slash relationship anniversary flower."

"Basic _human_ principle," Kazama corrects, "And I thought we imposed a moratorium on cultural references I wouldn't understand." He puts the lily down and walks over to another vase filled with white flowers on long stalks.

"What's there not to understand?" Amagiri inquires before taking one of the flowers out of the vase, "These are daisies."

"Should I finish that sentence - references I wouldn't understand or _care_ about. The fact that it's a _human_ tradition is enough for me to not care about it."

"Giving flowers is both sentimental - something you apparently despise - and entirely humanistic. You obviously care." Amagiri lifts the daisy to his nose and inhales the scent. It's fresh and tangy and he uses it as an excuse to explain his triumphant smile that Kazama can probably interpret in all its truth anyway.

"It's Chizuru," Kazama counters almost defensively; "I have to care."

"I told you s-"

"I wish you would shut up sometimes."

Kazama discards the daisy carelessly, leaving it to fall to the dirty ground in a way that the shopkeeper does not appreciate. She takes turns glaring between Kazama and Amagiri and then at the abused daisy she probably doesn't even care about anyway save for the fact that her two unwanted customers abused it, which is seemingly enough reason to pretend to care. Amagiri ignores her, wandering over to a display of flowers in, again, soft hues of pink and white on wide, fragrant petals. He strokes one between his finger and thumb, feeling the soft texture against his skin.

"Personally," he says, choosing a soft pink flower with dark pink freckles fading out and offering it to Kazama, "I'd say she's more an _amaryllis_ kind of girl."

Kazama ignores it, reaching past Amagiri's protruding hand for a purple rose. Amagiri smirks, regarding the flower with amusement, "More commonly known" he continues, disregarding Kazama's superficial disinterest, "As the naked lady."

Kazama stiffens, but doesn't look at Amagiri. There is a killing aura exuding off of him that Amagiri tries to pretend not to notice, even though it's hard to do.

"Do I want to know how you reached that conclusion?" He asks icily, "Or will that just make me want to hurt you for having had the time to think about something like that in connection with Chizuru?"

"Just saying…"

"Well don't," Kazama stares at his rose a little, the killing intent abating somewhat. "And why do you know so much about flowers anyway?"

Amagiri shrugs nonchalantly. "I like flowers," he says, as if every demon coincidentally also known for excellent swordsmanship and being among the most formidable opponents in hand-to-hand combat likes flowers. Although Kazama can see how, of all people, it would be Amagiri to nurture that kind of interest in his spare time. He's always been among the softest of the demons he's ever known, and sometimes Kazama finds himself coveting that kind of soft nature if only to know what kindness feels like in return. He drops the subject though and resumes studying his rose.

"This one?" he asks.

It's a deep purple, almost black, and to Amagiri its borderline imposing. Strangely fitting for Kazama, he muses, but not exactly something Chizuru would attach with _endearment._

"I don't know…" Amagiri murmurs.

Kazama blinks, still regarding the rose in a way that makes Amagiri think he's trying to instigate some kind of conversation with it.

"It's says chivalrous and passionate, I think."

Amagiri shakes his head and turns back to his naked lady.

"That's not chivalrous." Amagiri mumbles, "That's not even romantic."

"I'm not trying to be romantic,"

"But you're trying to be chivalrous,"

Kazama hums in agreement. "That's what she wants," he croons as he takes a few more purple roses from the stand.

"You're just trying to be convenient and possessive."

Kazama ignores Amagiri, stacking his arms with a dozen or so roses before turning away swiftly, making his coat billow out and whip Amagiri across the torso hard enough so that Amagiri knows he hasn't been forgiven. "I'm getting the roses." Kazama declares haughtily, before heading towards the door without a backwards glance.

Amagiri watches a moment as Kazama stalks out of the shop, roses in hand and a scowl on his face and a small smile lights his features. As indifferent as Kazama insists on being when it comes to humans, he has always shown a more-than-enough interest in most anything they do. Apparently buying flowers is no different.

He goes to follow Kazama when he hears a sharp cough from behind him. Noticing the shopkeeper, he drops a note onto the nearest table, not caring that she'd put down her azaleas to stand up with her hand outstretched for the payment - hand on hip and eyebrow arched, as if that's supposed to be intimidating to someone like Amagiri.

In spite, he walks out of the shop with his lily still in hand; aware that the note he left would not have been enough to cover his flower too. He thinks it's just silly paying for something nature gives free anyway, and he walks away making no effort to catch up to Kazama.

* * *

**There. Hope you enjoyed reading and that you were able to follow it okay, because I've got this great not-so-new habit of sometimes not making sense **_**and**_** not caring about it at the same time. But please, review and let me know your thoughts! :)**

**Oh and yes, while I am aware that the aforementioned flowers might not even grow in somewhere like Kyoto or even Japan in general, I am too partial to the idea of Kazama getting jealous over something like naked ladies to go back and change it to something that might actually make sense in reference to flowers and Japan. But I think it's okay because the characters might've possibly come off as way too OC for it to even matter anyway. And then there's the fact that I don't think purple roses actually exist. At least not the kind of purple I was referring to.**

**But it was fun to write so I'm happy.**

**Thanks for reading strangers and maybe-not-strangers and don't forget to review! :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks for the kind words ye lovely few. Regarding this...thing, I couldn't say no. Writing Hakuouki is strangely addictive and is a nice respite from my other attempts at fanfiction (namely Naruto). And then there's this pairing I can't get enough of. **

**Warnings for the following:**

** -Extreme OOCness,**

** -Ridiculously long sentences, which leads me to the last warning;**

** -****Nonsensical and possibly contradictive rambling**

**I apologize for all and none of these. Enjoy :)**

* * *

_**...**_

_Love is like a barren place and_

_Reaching out for human faith is_

_Like a journey I just don't have a map for_

_..._

_If love was red_

_Then she was colour blind_

_..._

* * *

Chizuru is supposed to be accompanying Hijikata on morning patrols when Kazama appears in that slightly creepy, slightly amazing way that he does. She was alone, wandering along the outskirts of Kyoto, watching the few people crazy enough to be awake this early meander on the main road. Those very same people don't look twice at the scene of the beautiful demon walking towards an unescorted, defenceless girl. Partly because they don't want any trouble from the demon, but mostly because they just don't care.

To Chizuru his appearance is unexpected as they ever have been, which, she supposes, makes them less surprising each time. The expression 'expect the unexpected' is all too familiar now, so she hardly bats a lid at him. But as Kazama walks towards her he quirks a brow in question. Chizuru's lack of response more than slightly annoys him, because he's conceited enough to think that that's the kind of attention he deserves. And he gets neither a smile nor a frown from her.

Chizuru, ever so perceptive, senses his displeasure, so, at least _pretending_ to be surprised — because she understands that's what he enjoys most about these random visits; her loss of composure and ability to talk — she gasps and holds a hand to her chest. Kazama smiles at that and brings his hand around from behind his back, presenting her with a bouquet of deep purple roses held together by a simple black ribbon. He's stopped and now stands close enough for Chizuru to reach out and touch if she wanted, and she can't deny that the shiver that runs through her is in response to the proximity.

"Chizuru," he murmurs in greeting, "I brought you flowers."

Chizuru looks at the flowers sceptically and doesn't take them. She's unsure what to make of this scene and doesn't know whether or not the flowers might be some sort of trap to steal her away. Maybe they're lethal and emit some kind of sleeping gas, or maybe they can transform into some kind of restraining tool once she touches them. Whatever the case, she doesn't trust there isn't some alternative motive behind this gift-giving, so she stands resolute and silently refuses to accept them.

Kazama, though, decides to ignore her silent refusal, because he thinks he's had enough refusals from her to last a lifetime. He will not be denied this least of all.

He stares at her, believing that his steady gaze will eventually prevail over her own nervous disposition, and waits, his roses extended for the taking. It's a strange predicament they find themselves in with neither party moving nor speaking, and Chizuru thinks that after a few seconds it starts to get a little too awkward. She's become so accustom to the Kazama who makes big speeches about stealing her away that she's almost expecting the time when he'd bust in with a gag and some rope to forcefully claim her. So to be offered flowers, even though they might be the kind that Chizuru hardly expects to find charming, (she's sure that's what he's going for), is entirely unexpected. Chizuru was never good with 'unexpected' either.

When the awkward silence drags on for just a little too long, Chizuru decides that even _words_ in place of silence would be better. Because she doesn't want to accept the flowers yet. She still won't even believe they're safe.

"Hijikata-san says I shouldn't speak to you," she says firmly, slowly moving her hand down to where she keeps her short-sword.

"Do you always do what Hijikata-san says?" Kazama watches her hand with a lazy kind of caution.

Chizuru frowns softly, and Kazama wants to take his thumb and smooth it away. But then he remembers who he is; Kazama the cold, unemotional, entirely anti-social demon, and he stops himself.

"Well," Chizuru says, "Not always. But it's not like I don't agree with him, so..."

"Is it because he's scared?" he asks, arrogance lacing his words.

Chizuru stares off into a non-distinct horizon somewhere over Kazama's left shoulder. "I probably shouldn't even be accepting flowers from you…"

Kazama scoffs, "It's because he's scared, isn't it?"

"Although I can't remember if that was instigated in the first." Chizuru says, carrying on from her last sentence as if forgetting Kazama was there at all.

Kazama smirks triumphantly, though, when Chizuru sighs, looks him in the eyes and takes the flowers from his hands. As she inspects them he laughs softly to himself. "He's so scared."

"Of course Hijikata-san is not scared. He's just worried for me."

"Which is synonymous for scared."

"Not really."

Chizuru breathes in the rich scent of the roses, content to deem them at least not life-threatening to her. She doesn't deny that they are quite beautiful, in a morbid sort of way. But then, what else should she have expected from someone like Kazama? At least in this way she knows he's stayed true to his character. Or at least the part of his character that _she_ knows.

She brushes past him, glancing once up at him in invitation to follow, and they begin to walk up the path away from Kyoto. They approach the border of where the wild forest meets the civilization of their simple roadway and continue to follow it, flitting in and out of the shadows cast by the trees.

"Hijikata-kun knows that I can easily sway you to leave this silly place." Kazama murmurs, watching Chizuru carefully as she answers.

"Oh really? Sway me by giving me purple roses?"

Kazama blinks once, observing the way Chizuru still assesses the flowers with rapt attention. If he didn't know any better, he might say that this particular ploy is actually working. Or at least as much as he expected it to, even though she isn't grovelling at his feet in thanks, because perhaps _that_ might've been just a bit too much to ask for. Nevertheless, he's understood thus far that Chizuru is a woman of many parts, and that her liking his roses might not mean what he thinks it should mean.

"What's wrong with purple roses?" He says, "Do you not like them?"

"It depends."

Kazama pauses, forcing Chizuru in turn to halt abruptly and face him. They're standing in the shade of the trees now and the play of the changing shadows on Kazama's face makes him appear ominous, but in a way that Chizuru could almost find alluring. His hair shines richly and his eyes flash like dark rubies polished by the moon. He brushes a stray golden strand off his face. "Depends on what?" he says carefully.

"On the intention behind them" Chizuru replies.

"An intention shouldn't influence a preference that is based solely on the naked eye. Do you like the flowers or not?"

The question is blunt and his tone demands a direct answer, but Chizuru finds herself liking this conversation too much for it to come to such a hasty conclusion. Instead she asks; "Would you like me to like my flowers?"

Kazama works to suppress his exasperation. "Who cares what I'd like," he growls, "I want to know if _you_ like your flowers."

"But you would prefer that I liked them, wouldn't you?"

Kazama's eyes glint dangerously, as if he's precariously close to the edge of a cliff that might represent something important.

"That hardly matters." He says, "You will decide whether or not you like them based on your own personal tastes and partialities, disregarding whether or not I want you to like them, and whether there might be misleading intentions behind the notion of giving them. Not that I'm admitting to such a thing. I only want to know, Do. You. Like. Your. Flowers?"

There's a surprised silence and Chizuru stares at Kazama with raised eyebrows, her amusement playing clearly across her face. "That's the most I've heard you say in…ever. Or at least the most that's made sense."

Kazama sighs and rubs at his face, his expression softening. He peers at Chizuru through his fingers.

"You're making me weary." He doesn't know what to make of the smile that suddenly lights her face, except that he can't deny it makes him feel warm and, dare he say it, happy even. He squashes that concept down firmly, deciding to confront it when he's had enough time to remember what kind of person he's _supposed_ to be.

She stares down at her flowers and fingers the dark petals gently.

"I like the flowers."

"Good"

It's Kazama's turn to smile now, even though the notion of a genuine one doesn't come naturally to him. But at least it's not the savage, arrogant sort of smile that Chizuru is use to seeing on him, and she finds herself liking it all the same.

They turn back to their path and continue down it in companionable silence. Kazama keeps close enough to the tree-line so as to not be noticed by anyone who happens to be watching from the borders of Kyoto town — namely one equally as possessive Shinsengumi member who might happen to be close by, more specifically, Hijikata.

He can't deny he hates Hijikata. And he would safely assume the feeling is mutual. And it's not just because of the obstacle Hijikata presents when in comes to Chizuru, although he loathes to admit it presents a formidable challenge. It's everything about the man. The idealism for a phantom sort of future that's only going to get him killed in the end; the headstrong belief that he and his Shinsengumi are the most powerful group ever to grace this stupid earth. And perhaps Kazama is guilty of entertaining the same ideas himself. But the very fact that he is a demon — a race far superior to any nation or group — surely gives license for him to think what he thinks.

But Hijikata is just a man with excellent swordsmanship, hardly anything to boast about. And then there's the point that, to make their so-called indestructible army, they must make these fake demons? Kazama can only roll his eyes in contempt.

However, Kazama pushes these thoughts from his mind and endeavours to concentrate on the woman at his side. He refuses to let Hijikata cloud his mind while he has this opportunity to walk with Chizuru. And in the end it doesn't take very much for his attention to be consumed by her. He's not sure if that's a good thing or not.

He observes intently the way she walks along, gazing keenly at her surroundings and smiling at any small thing that catches her eye. A wild rabbit scurrying under bush, a pair of birds tumbling and twisting playfully in the air like lovesick fools. She smiles down at her roses when they pass a small field of wild daisies and buttercups, and that makes Kazama pleased.

He thinks about how very much like a Yukimura she looks. The soft features countered by her strong, sharp spirit. The nobility stands out so clearly in the way she holds herself, and yet there's a humility that comes to her so naturally — the kind that the Yukimura family never had. He wants to think it's because she's spent her life believing she's human, but he knows it's not.

After a while they find themselves at the summit of a small rising that overlooks Kyoto. Chizuru looks up at Kazama and smiles, even though she's not sure whether or not she's okay with the idea of enjoying his company this much. Even though they've said hardly anything since resuming their walk, she thinks she's seen some softer side of him, and that makes her scared in a silly, school-girl kind of way. She thinks he doesn't know that, throughout the walk, she would catch small glimpses of him from the corner of her eye. She knows he'd been staring at her in a way that makes her think he isn't as brutal, as stone-cold as she's believed him to be. She's partial to this side of Kazama, and to her, that's too dangerous a prospect to dwell on.

"Well," Kazama says, glancing down towards the town, "I will leave now."

Chizuru stamps down on the flare of disappointment that rises inside of her.

Forcing nonchalance, she asks "So soon?"

Kazama is not fooled. A victorious feeling along with that special kind of happiness he's never felt before rises, and this time he let's himself revel in it. He flashes a quick, almost animal-like smile at Chizuru which in turn makes her frown. "Hijikata-kun is coming" he says.

"Now who's the scared one?"

From the town a lone figure emerges. Kazama watches wearily as it makes a steady approach.

"I'm not scared," he protests, "I just don't feel like ruining this day with a confrontation."

Chizuru laughs and follows his line of sight until she too can see Hijikata making his way towards them. She wonders if Hijikata can see Kazama standing in the shadow of the trees. Probably not, she concludes. "Whatever. You're scared."

"Am not." Kazama's already stepped back into the cover of the forest.

"Well, whatever. But," Chizuru holds Kazama's steady gaze a moment and then smiles — that genuine, soul-warming smile that Kazama likes. "Thank you for the roses. I do like them."

"You're welcome."

"I wonder, though, what I should say if Hijikata-kun asks who I got them from?"

At this Kazama smirks before answering, "You'll tell them they're from me. A blow to his ego will do him good in the long run. And will prove to you how scared he is."

Chizuru turns back down the path again and begins to pick her way down.

"No more than you who refuses to see him." She calls over her shoulder, noting Kazama's not even there anymore. He's disappeared like mist; faded into nothingness. She picks up her pace then and lets her smile rule unrestrained.

Her heart jolts so hard that she fears it might burst out of her chest when she hears Kazama's voice. It's like thunder reverberating through her body and feels like it comes from everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

"Whatever," he says, "Enjoy your roses."

* * *

_**/-Still can't decide what to make of this scene**_

**But whatever. It's obviously obvious in this chapter that I have a serious infatuation with KazaChi. Whether or not I will continue to elaborate on it, though, is unforeseeable. As of yet. If the notion hits me to go on, then I will. But thank you for reading anyway :)**

**Please review because they make me smile. Like, really bigly. **


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